I could give you what you need today.
But you would only squander away
my gift
with an early morning decision
and a swift and clean incision
that would cut deep into all our lives.
Author: Ian Harris
Operating from Stratford upon Avon, the Stratfordian/Ian Frederick Harris paints from his studio (shed) at the bottom of the garden where the rest of the gnomes, elves and fairy's dwell in an effort to escape the world's Orcs. On This website you will find his artwork, which at the very least proves he exists.
A poem now and then #3 Horse.
I am and have been all my life, a performing circus horse.
And I’ve learnt well the tricks of my trade.
The raising and lowering of my head on command.
The toss of my mane.
And the reward that always comes…that pat on the head.
That lies when it says I am accepted and ‘a good boy’.
That pat on the head that is supposed to make up for the cruelty of it all.
See me trot, see me rear.
Whisper manipulations in my ear.
Everything that you believe I want to hear.
See me gallop and take the jump
Finest hay then sugar lump.
All on cue.
Right on course
this fine, obedient,
performing horse.
This horse has patience.
From a line well-bred.
Nothing changes.
I want you dead.
IFH.
A poem now and then. #2 On seeing old folks shopping.
On seeing old folk shopping
Side by side
lumbering.
A herd of wounded rhino
bent backed stick heavy.
Tottering towards termination.
Taken by Tesco trolley towards checkout.
What becomes of the broken hearted?
Alone.
Companion-less.
Worn on the wheel of life
devoid now of the man or woman
they never truly loved but miss all the same.
An empty basket.
No honey
No money
It’s not funny.
It’s life.
Ian Frederick Harris.
CONTACT ME.
A poem now and then. #I A DISGUSTING F****ED UP POEM.
A DISGUSTING F****ED UP POEM (on the state of our rivers).
Is that Turd I can see
Floating down the river?
Maybe a discarded tissue?
A lunchbox piece of liver?
There’s some toilet paper
Someone’s used condom
Brings back sexy memories
Of moments now long gone.
Like a magic sail past
All drifting out to sea
This time tomorrow morning
Where on earth will they be?
A snake-like bloodied bandage
A hospital repair
Isn’t that a toupee?
Someone’s lost their hair.
There.
A ripe banana
Plus selected fruit all vying to be seen.
And look…there’s your favourite colour
It is?
Isn’t it?
GREEN?
And see,
here come the animals
Some alive oh what amazing luck
Oh no, wait one sadly, tear-stained second
Isn’t that a rotting duck?
Now.
if you’re really lucky
You’ll spot a suicide
Floating along so gracefully
More balletic now they’ve died.
I’m sorry it ended like that for him
I’ve stopped to show respect.
I’ll wait for him to float on by
Before I go for my daily swim.
Ian Frederick Harris.
CONTACT ME.